I'll Drink To That
by The Little Things In Life
Summary: Hook's nursing a drink at Granny's when Emma comes barging in, asking him about superpowers and telling herself he's lying when he's sure she knows he's not. Funny, romantic/friendship CS set at any point in time, as long as they're in Storybrooke and on the same side. Leave me your thoughts. (Cameo from Ruby, because she's awesome.)


**This is stuck somewhere between a drabble, a oneshot and a plot bunny, and I do hope you like it. CS friendship with hints of romance, a touch of humor and a bit of hopeless innuendo.**

**I ****_do _****hope you'll enjoy.**

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"You know, my superpower is that I know when people are lying to me."

Hook starts as Emma slides into the seat next to him. He had been nursing his drink, trying to get rid of his thoughts, but quickly slips back into his patented Captain 'I'm irresistible' Hook persona. Narrowing his eyes at her, he decides that the best way to get under Emma's skin is by saying a little as possible. Now that she's ready to have a conversation with him, that's bound to drive her crazy.

"Is it?" he asks her, solemnly, slowly, looking at her from the corners of his eyes, gauging her reaction. She hasn't noticed his (fake) reluctance to join her in the conversation yet, and seems uncharacteristically… not moody, or angry, or yelling at him. It's not like her.

"Yeah. What's yours?"

"Innuendo," he deadpans, and she chuckles.

"Fair enough, I guess. What's the use of a superpower like that though?"

"What do you _think _is the use of that superpower, lass? It has brought many a wench to my bed," he counters, and he's _almost _certain her cheeks go a bit pink, though that might just be from the heat inside the diner contrasting with the cold wind outside.

"It has? Can't imagine why."

For someone who claims to be good at spotting lies, Emma is a terrible liar herself. That might just be because he's able to read her so well, though. He decides to raise her hackles a bit. Her reaction should be fun. "_Lie_."

"…What?" She feigns confusion, but a fraction of a second too slow. He's caught on to her act, and she knows he has.

"You _can _imagine why, and right now, you're trying to gauge the number of wenches I've brought to my bed with my double entendre and sheer handsomeness."

"I'm not!" she hisses at him. Oh yes, her cheeks are _definitely_ going a very pretty shade of pink.

"And you haven't disagreed with me on the very important topic of my handsomeness. Thank you for the compliment, I needed an ego boost."

"I.. what? I haven't – I don't think you're handsome! And you _definitely _don't need an ego boost!"

Keeping his face carefully blank, he turns towards her, facing her full-on for the first time since she walked into the diner. He leans forward, his mouth only just brushing her ear, ignoring the thrill of electricity shooting through his body at the feeling of his lips against her ear shell. "Actually, Swan, you think I'm _very _handsome, and you would like to be one of the wenches I have brought to my bed with my well-placed, loosely interpretable wit._ Truth._"

Emma looks at him, stunned at his words, which she thinks have now officially crossed the line between relatively innocent innuendo and downright vulgarity. "_Lie!'_

She raises her hand, signaling Ruby for a drink. The she-werewolf shrugs questioningly, and just gives her a _look_. To Hook, it's clear as day that it means _I'll have whatever he's having, _but he thinks he's the only one who's able to read her that well. Apparently though, Emma is a lot easier to read than he thought, or his Swan and Ruby are a lot closer than he thought, because not a minute later a glass of the strongest alcohol on the menu appears.

They sit in companionable silence for a while, sipping their drinks, letting it warm them from the inside as they swallow the liquid fire.

"You're a decent liar, you know. Actually, more than decent," she adds with a mixture between a little laugh and a huff. "I'm probably the only one who has ever called you out on it. Even I would probably have missed your tells, if I hadn't known how to read you like an open book."

He can _see_ the moment it _clicks _in her head, can _see_ her think _I shouldn't have said that_, can _see_ her prepare to throw her walls back up, and he really shouldn't be adding insult to injury, but he just can't help himself. "An open book, love?"

"No, I – Shut up, Hook."

He grins. "On one condition."

She looks at him, exasperated. "_What?!_"

"Call me by my given name, I know you remember it. Also, let me buy you a drink."

"That's _two _conditions, Hook. Pick one."

"Well, _you _wanted me to shut up, yes?"

"Shut _up!_ Ugh, sure, whatever. Please _do_ buy me a drink, _Killian._"

He isn't prepared for the thrill that runs through him as his name fall from her lips. It hasn't been uttered in over three hundred years, and even Milah (_Milah, oh Milah, my Milah, what color were your eyes?_ It's been eating at him, he doesn't remember, _why doesn't he remember_? …Weren't they green? No, that's Emma, _her_ eyes, _those _are green. Milah's were… blue, or grey. He thinks.), even Milah had at first only known him as Hook. He only told her his true name after she had run away with him. Emma knew his true name before they had exchanged more than a few words, but has never said it; now she has, and it touches him more than it should.

"Hey, you still there? _Killian?_"

It's Emma, sounding more annoyed than concerned, though he can tell it's not the first time she's asked.

"You zoned out for a moment. What the hell?"

"Nothing at all, love," he deflects. "How about that drink now? You look like you could use it."

"Have you looked in a mirror lately? You look like absolute shit."

"_Well_," he quips, reaching for the liquor Ruby has once again brought them, "here's to looking like hell and still being devilishly handsome, then."

"I'm _not_ drinking to that."

"Fine. What _are _you drinking to?"

"I don't know… Never really had to make a toast." Before he can think on that statement, though, she adds, "If I _have_ to toast, though –"

"You do."

"I'd… I like ships. I'll drink to the _Jolly Roger._"

"Well then," he tells his Swan with a graceful half-bow. "To the _Jolly Roger_, may she never sink." And shifting closer, he decides to throw in some of his trusted innuendo for good measure. "Feel free to jolly _my _Roger any time, love."

His only response is a huff (and a grin).

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